The Corsair: Princess Yizreel and the Sensei Conspiracy
by Cornelius Maximus
Summary: Inspired by Lord Gregore Byron's work; an epic poem detailing deeds of a single Eldar corsair. Princess Yizreel is a former Autarch forced to leave her Craftworld. Now as a corsair, she is hired by an inquisitor which will put her right into the conspiracy connected to the mysterious sensei... I do not own WH40K, it belongs to GW.
1. Canto I: A Visit in the Void

**OOC:** Hello there, it's me, your author. I do admit that I have been advertising this character a lot lately; a rebellious Eldar corsair inspired by Lord Byron's work. Since I am too sick to write anything proper, I chose to write this experimental fanfiction to see how my idea will work out in form of an epic poem, for it is far easier to write poetry for me than prose. Introduction is meant to be short, merely to let me know what you are thinking of the idea. Enjoy your read!

" _In the vast darkness of the void old,_

 _Among it's gaze freezing and cold,_

 _Among stars, burning and fiery,_

 _There everyone, hears of our bravery,_

 _There our destiny, there our path;_

 _To let the mon-keigh feel our wrath;_

 _Those, who among craftworlds crystalline spire,_

 _To escape she-who thirsts desire,_

 _To eat their souls among warp's wrath,_

 _Follow set in front of them path;_

 _Those, who in Comorragh's darkest corners,_

 _Engage in orgies of violence and murders,_

 _Knowing that torturing others they must;_

 _So treacherous, that no one can another trust,_

 _Lets he would be stabbed in the back,_

 _In the darkest corners of city black,_

 _Or die in an arena, like a common animal,_

 _To satisfy Commorite's for blood call;_

 _They know not the freedom stars give;_

 _Freedom among which we thrive;_

 _Unbound by ruins of our old empire;_

 _Unbound by She – who – thirsts ire;_

 _Fallen gods, warp's heirs,_

 _Eternally scheming farseers,_

 _Navigating the solar winds;_

 _Fighting monsters in all their kinds;_

 _Tyranid hive fleets, which like swarm of ants,_

 _Fall on planets in horde of scythes and gaunts,_

 _What can we gain, if not eternal glory?_

 _That will be written in every Aeldari's memory?_ "

In Haven Spire, above a gas giant,

Which gleamed in warm, purple light

On a moon against twin suns burning ire,

Lied a single, enormous Haven Spire,

Was sung this song, among corsairs,

As they were busy with their own affairs;

One splinter rifle polished and cleansed

Every piece of dirt on the barrel ended,

Blood of Astrates, and Lord Commissar,

he wiped off, sitting against the burning star;

Another a generator circular and broad,

Attached to shining blade of his power sword

Ornamented blade, shining like mirror,

Reflecting the stars themselves in all their splendour,

Clean and beautiful, like the winter ice,

Not a single scratch on the blade's surface

A blade that among it's thundery glow

Felled an Ork Warboss with a single blow

As outside the window, outside the star-fort

A single cruiser attached itself to the port

The inquisitor, who seen many battles in his life;

Among his three hundred years in this era of strife,

Upon entering the station, had to admit,

Realization, which his head instantly hit,

That though he burned heretics legions endless,

None of them were as terrifying, as this princess,

Standing on each side flanked by a ranger,

In black - yellow armor, signifying danger...

Her face bright, long and narrowing down,

On it two piercing eyes like gems brown,

Deeply set, but with predatory gaze,

Guarding the entry to her soul's maze,

Red hair, like a burning gown,

Behind her head freely flown,

Tall she was, with a thin figure,

But extreme agility hid behind this posture,

Wrapped in black - yellow Ghostplate armor

Scarred with scratches, the wounds of valor;

Which she personally took from an Archon she killed,

Whose head with a fusion pistol she grilled.

Former autarch, after with Farseers quarrel,

Left to become an outcast living by gun's barrel,

The inquisitor, had to admit, even as many world's liberator

In this room - the Eldar was the apex predator.

" _Inquisitor_ " sounder her melodic voice;

 _"I am glad that you have again made the choice,_

 _For even before, when you hired me times thrice,_

 _No matter the foe, my skills always did suffice,_

 _And your mon-keigh heretic, or mutant it was;_

 _By my blade always it's doom met has;_

 _But as you may know, my blade isn't cheap;_

 _Name your price, and I will your foes reap!"_

 _By carapace armor covered, his hand,_

 _Gestured to his escort, to open a box and,_

 _All kinds of gems, beautiful diamonds,_

 _And a long blade, decorated with lions,_

 _But to quell such dangerous heresy's vice,_

 _What was the price that will not suffice_?

" _Here, Xeno is your pay_ "

The inquisitor spoke, not hiding dismay,

But in the schola, and even after,

He learned not to discard an asset like her

" _This should your satisfaction meet,_

 _For so happens, I am in need of deniable asset._

 _A convoy will pass, very soon,_

 _By Japheth V's third moon;_

 _It carries a packages, inside transporters each,_

 _That I would rather not have it's destination reach;_

 _Unfortunately, it's owner's uncle is a powerful inquisitor;_

 _Who holds entire Segmentum in awe and terror;_

 _It would be for my person a terrible voe;_

 _Had I by accident made him my foe._

 _With the rest? Do what you will,_

 _But those packages for me you steal!_ "

 _"Your terms are accepted, Inquisitor;_

 _I shall bring your foes death and terror;_

 _I shall strike them with all the fury of Uldanesh,_

 _Burning their very bodies to ash;_

 _As for your crates, about them worry not;_

 _For they swiftly, to you will be brought!_ "

The swift song describing foe's bane,

Her melodic, soft voice sounded again...

The inquisitor left the corsair's lair,

While Yizreel corrected her burning hair,

And with loud voice called her crew;

It was time to leave - on a hunt new!


	2. Canto II: Dark Grace

**Okay everyone, here is chapter 2! Sorry for no action as of yet, but I wanted to describe the princess herself and give you deeper understanding of her. My intention here and now was to create a custom and unique Eldar, with unique believes – but at the same time still adhering to the lore laid out by GW. I would be greatly thankful if you told me how did that play out.**

She stood, looking int light of a star,

As her corsairs assembled for war,

Her voice, steadfast and resolute,

To her war band - was command absolute,

When she came members of her crew near,

Commorite, Exodite and Craftworlder -a all did fear,

Her eyesight sharp, like Dukhari daggers long,

Richly decorated chainsword, rested in hands strong,

From someone special, from ancient days gift

Man who long ago, had in flames death swift,

And fires, that once devoured her mentor's flesh,

Burned inside her every day wounds fresh,

She was of Eldanesh's ancient royal blood,

Ancient hero washed away by Khaine's fiery flood,

Just like her ancestor, her posture noble and gracious,

But at the same time - lonely, distanced and mysterious.

If none of her crew ever understand her would,

What chance for that - that a mon'keigh could?

Neither slaves, nor riches did she desire,

Just to express against Chaos her burning ire,

Against the warp, the evil of all,

Realm which corrupted her people, led to their fall,

Her uniqueness and alienation seen even her crew,

As all her emotions, inside her did brew,

But rarely she shared her feelings with someone,

Preferring, in general, to keep to herself, alone,

Her believes, in all their variety

Kept her at odds with vast majority of eldar society.

" _Vect was right_ " she thought in her head,

"To make his kin restrict our powers was his greatest act indeed;

The farseers, for all wisdom their proclaim,

To look into the future - ultimately in vain.

Once I was an autarch who warhost to battle led,

Thanks to farseer's advice, one third ended up dead,

They murdered my mentor to bring a warp terror,

That was cursed with bloody hand for murder of my ancestor,

Being vicious and vanglorious, like rest of our "gods" so called,

No wonder that under their oversight, we to fall were led..."

She paused the thoughts that plagued her head,

Gazing into the void, void silent and dead

" _Their powers come from realm where demons dwell,_

 _The evil immaterial plane, a real hell,_

 _Has it occurred, in their lust for power,_

 _They expose themselves to she-who-thirst's hunger?_

 _I met many of them when as Autarch I served,_

 _But every one I met, in some way was corrupted,_

 _And while Vect and his kin, from the city dark,_

 _Were right to restrict use of warp, they still carry the spark,_

 _Of corruption inside their black souls,_

 _There, she - who - thirds for them howls._

 _It's terrifying to see what Old ones mistake,_

 _In the end - form did on itself take._

 _But I am the one who will lead the outcasts to salvation,_

 _Through blood and steel shall we achieve our liberation,_

 _We shall not follow a path restrict our emotions,_

 _But neither we will descend into Commorite degeneracy oceans,_

 _We are free souls, unchained by paths and kabals!_

 _In front of us the very chaos falls!_

 _We shall stand against warp's dangers,_

 _We - Eldanesh's Avengers!_ "

Alone did she plan, alone did she dream,

Setting the pieces of her grand scheme,

About rest of her race she did not care at all,

Seeing every of them as being tainted by the fall,

For her, Eldanesh's avengers were the remnant last,

Which in face of the warp, did remain steadfast,

Rest of Aeldari? Unworthy of any attention,

Unless they realized their position,

And joined her of outcasts and corsairs band,

Then - she will eagerly lend them a hand.

She turned around and moved through the hall,

Looking at decorations displayed on the wall,

On it hanged a dagger, with a curved blade,

Like a long talon, in colors of black and jade,

It was weapon of her mother - among wyches wych,

Which dueled her father - an Autarch, whom did beseech,

Exodite world, for help against Dukhari piratical raids,

The forces clashed, and the Autarch the Wych fights,

For entire day, did they their blades cross,

Each of them at each other, quick strikes did toss,

With speed uncapturable to the human eye,

They exchanged blows under the world's dark sky,

Like series of chain lightings every blow flies,

And only then did the wych realize,

That her cult, wanted to her father cheat;

They used their battle to cowardly retreat.

And as the wych, her blades did in the earth shove,

The two suddenly realized, they are in love.

They moved to the craftworld, the Wych a howling banshee became,

In hundred battles, covered herself in bloody fame.

Then Yizreel looked further to the right,

When she herself in Commoragh did fight,

On bloody arenas, having struck a bargain,

With a certain Archon; to bring a just pain

On a certain wych cult, which double-crossed the lord,

In exchange for weapons and ships for her wind-sword.

Alongside the wyches, many monsters did she face,

Above her left eye, remained of that trace,

And Hive Tyrant giant horn,

Did wall of her fortress adorn.

But enough of that - the cruiser is ready!

Her crew remains prepared and steady,

Set forward were the massive solar sails,

Gently on them the sun-wind falls,

The cruiser moves, where inquisitor can't -

Eldanesh's Avengers are today on a hunt!


End file.
